Learning to be oneself
by Kei-Sheila
Summary: Connor is not an android, but he is not a human either. It is difficult for him to lead a life that for others has been very easy to adapt. With the help of his friend Hank, he will learn little by little if he is really alive or just a machine that is breaking down.
1. Connor

Connor

See Hank next to the fast food stand, where the questions were asked a long time ago. Connor felt as if something had broken inside him. His old friend's face lit up, Connor thought he had to smile, but he did it for a moment, what he did was show a smile on his side, maybe the most authentic smile he had ever seen in his life.

Hank approached him and hugged him, noticed the heat emanating from the man and had to admit that he was well, as if what was broken inside him was fixed for a moment.

—Connor —said Hank smiling. The android return the gesture—. How are you?

He didn't know what to say, lay him? Tell the truth? Or change the topic, as if it had better things to spoke? In the end this latter case was true. However, he decided to opt for sincerity.

—I am… — He stopped for a few seconds to thought —. I guess I'm wrong.

Hank raised an eyebrow.

—Why? —asked, seeing that the android didn't answer.

—Because something in my fail if I don't receive orders.

His eyelids fell,that was devasting for him. What should he do when the options were endless? How could someone act knowing that he did not have a marked path, a purpose that someone would have told him?

Hank watched him, silently.

Connor gazed his hands, with an expression of emptiness.

—How do you do? —He wanted to know.

—Do what?

—Know what to do when there are millions of possibilities. Have you never asked? It's crazy; I don't stop of thinking what I must do. Do I look for a place where I can slept? Do I disconnect anywhere, to don't waste energy? If I am alive, Should I look for something that makes me feel that way? Every movement I do it is a probability among millons. How can the humanity live like this?

Hank put a hand on his shoulder.

—To all the androids who awakened—keep Connor—, they are confortable, easy, as if they were ready for this moment, instead I felt better as a machine —said looking again to Hank—. Am I really alive if I believe that my life was better as a machine?

Sometimes he thought, and sometimes he belived that he was a fake divergent. It was true that he had made his own decisions, but since the Marku's revolution he had not an really own idea, and not even during the revolt he had felt comfortable, he only had changed a boss for other.

—Connor —Hank hissed—. I'm not a machine, but I can tell you that all of these fears are characteristic of human beings; it's the fear to the future, the fear to not knowing what will happen next. Humans would like to be machines sometimes.

Connor wanted to straighten his tie with a quick movement, but Hank's arm was impeded, what made the android resigned to straighten his suit.

—I do not know how I can be myself.

The man hugged him again

—Don't worry Connor, I'll be on your side.

And again, he had the sensation for a second that everything would be fine.

I am very sorry for my English, I know it is very bad. But for years I wanted to translate one of my fanfics. I apologize again for the translation. And thanks.


	2. Hank

HANK

At the other side of the mirror of the interrogation room, Hank watching how Connor interrogated the android who had killed Carlos Ortiz. It was weird watch a machine discuss with another machine, and even though he had given his permission for Connor to do it because no human had managed to coax him out, he did not rely at all his new partner.

Connor had pressed the droid to find out some clues as any cop would have done, but finally decided to explore its memory. That certainly was not something a human policeman could have done.

When the interrogation was over and Connor was going to put a foot out of that room, the android that killed Carlos Ortiz start to bang its head hard on the table, again and again, again and again.

—What the fuck is doing? — Asked Gavin, as if the answer was not obvious.

—Is self-destructing —answered Hank.

Hank, Chris and Gavin entered in the room. Gavin pushed Chris to make stop the android hits, but was impossible to do, as much as Gavin shouted. Connor said something too, but Chris was too much nervous and he was not able to listen or to handle himself with the keys of the handcuffs of the arrested android.

He can't blame him, Hank thought that the same thing would happen to him. That was a bomb that could explode at any time.

Suddenly the android reacted and got up from the chair when he did not have the handcuffs, with a quick movement he took off the Chris regulation weapon was carrying, and fired with it in the Connor's forehead to shot itself later.

…

Hank jigged on the bed and realized that it had only been a nightmare. That had never happened that interrogation had ended without incident.

Connor was resting in the guest room, Hank believed that if he guided him in his new life, it would be easier for him to live it. Connor had suffered the first changes in his behavior as a partner of Hank so who knew if those changes would progress with him?

He got up uneasy and disoriented and went to the kitchen for a little alcohol that made him forget what he just had dreamed.

Lying on the kitchen floor, Sumo looked up when he passed by her side to then yawn and return it down. The huge dog preferred to continue sleeping to worry about his master. Hank envied him madly.

Picked up a bottle of cheap whiskey that rested in a rickety closet and began to drink the contents sitting on one of the kitchen chairs.

He was used to nightmares, populated his dreams almost daily, as undesirable neighbors that only a great drunkenness could throw. However, it was the first time he had a nightmare that was not related with Cole.

That caused him some uneasiness. Because somehow, was sure that if things had happened exactly as in his nightmare he wouldn't care because Connor was just a machine like the washing machine or the dryer. But now that fact scared him. He didn't want to lose him.

—Hello lieutenant Anderson.

Hank jumped on his chair.

—¡Jesus Christ! —exclaimed Hank—.You scared me shitless. Weren't sleeping?

Connor remained standing, dressed with his usual clothes as if he did not care whether it was day or night.

— Actually I do not sleep; I enter in saving mode to do not waste energy. Breathing is to make it more natural for humans.

Hank looked at the ceiling and let out something that looked like a snort.

—Ok — said the human prolonging the "o"—. Put your battery back as it was and let me drink quietly.

—Maybe you should not drink —said Connor, It was not the first time he advised, but Hank found it just as annoying.

— I'm a big boy enough to know what suits me Connor.

—Maybe something happened?

That question caught man unawares, he was used to the android insisting on his arguments, but asking if something had happened was out of the ordinary in him. However, Hank shook his head, did not want to tell the truth.

While they talked, Hank hurried the bottle with long swallows to his booze, thinking that maybe if he was not too fast, Connor would take it off in an oversight.

—So, Do you want I return to my room and put my battery in saving mode?

Hank placed the glass on the table and looked at the droid with surprise.

—No Connor —sighted—. No need to go, just leave me alone for a while with the issue of drink — he added moving a chair —. C'mon, sit here.

The droid obeyed and perch beside him.

A few minutes passed without saying anything, in silence.

—Do you drink for your son? —raised Connor. A question too direct for Hank, looked at him fiercely—. If I could drink I would, like you, if you think it helps with your problems, maybe it will help me with mine.

— My problems and yours are totally different. Don't compare them.

—That is the question. We are different, that is why alcohol does not make me take better decisions.

—Well — hesitated Hank less angry —. Equally, you should not. It doesn't make me choose the best options either.

— If that I live here bothers you, you can tell me, I can still go.

—No Connor, I don't want you to go—said Hank closed the whisky.

He was afraid that if it goes away from him it would end up getting hurt, or it would break. And he knew that Connor was not a machine because he could not stop thinking that if it died the little sense that his life had, would pass away.


End file.
